


Negotiating

by Basingstoke



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-05
Updated: 2000-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beauty is not an absolute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negotiating

Obi-Wan walked through the stone garden, Prince Pahlan at his side.  

"It scarcely hurts," the Prince said.

"I'm not afraid of the pain," Obi-Wan replied.  "But you see, my teeth are permanent, and I'm afraid it would be unseemly to wear filed teeth into full adulthood."

"Oh, that's no problem at all!  Many young men have their teeth filed after the adult teeth have come in."  The Prince smiled, showing his neatly pointed teeth.  They were framed by several sets of facial tattoos showing his high rank: parallel blue bars on his cheeks and enormous, stylized eyes on his forehead, trailing long lashes down his temples.

Obi-Wan tried again.  "I don't think my order would approve of filed teeth.  Our traditions are rather strict as to the proper appearance of apprentice Knights."

"But it's just a tradition, yes?  Not a rule?"  

"Yes, but--"

"Then there's no reason at all not to make yourself beautiful!" The Prince stopped Obi-Wan, cupping his face with his long, triple-jointed fingers.  "There's nothing you can do about those peculiar hands, but your teeth are quite normal.  Just think how lovely you'll be!"

"Thank you, but--"  

The Prince touched his chin to Obi-Wan's forehead in farewell. "I must go, my mother wants me.  But we must talk later!"  The Prince whirled, his long robes swirling behind him, darted through the winding stone garden and was gone before Obi-Wan could speak again.

Obi-Wan sighed and tried to remember the path back to his chambers.

* * *

"Master, he's driving me mad."

Qui-Gon smiled without opening his eyes.  He knelt in the sun by the window, preparing for the day.  "Patience, my Padawan."

"I am patient.  But the Prince has spoken of nothing but tooth-sharpening and tattoos for twelve turns of the sun!  Let me come to the negotiations, Master, I can scribe or make tea or *anything*!"

"That would be against this culture's protocol, my Padawan.  It behooves us to obey their standards rather than ours."  Qui-Gon reached over his head, interlacing his hands and stretching.  Obi-Wan knelt behind him and rubbed his spine.  

"Please?  Just for a day?  Half a day?  I can't bear this any more, I really can't.  The Prince can't seem to think of anything but my appearance.  I'm not vain, Master."

"Of course not."  Qui-Gon sounded infuriatingly calm. 

"But it's been rather trying, Master, and we've been here rather a long time."  

"Negotiations should not be rushed."  

Obi-Wan stepped back as Qui-Gon gracefully stood.  "What would you say if I came back with pointed teeth one of these nights?"

"I would advise you to be careful when chewing your food."  Qui-Gon touched his chin to Obi-Wan's forehead.  "Have a good day.  I'll see you at dinner."

* * *

Obi-Wan held the filtering glass to his eyes and admired Pehlah's double suns.  The minor sun, a dwarf, was at its furthest extension from the large yellow  sun.  "Lovely," he sighed.

"Oh yes," the Prince answered.  "We used to worship them as gods, did you know that?  Salaha and her daughter Anaha.  My mother's crown reflects that old belief."

Obi-Wan smiled.  He was wondering what it would take for the Prince to speak of something other than his shocking lack of adornment.

The Prince touched Obi-Wan's arm.  "Come, we mustn't stay in the sun much longer.  She'll become angry and turn our skin purple."  He smiled as Obi-Wan looked down and took the glass away from his eyes.  

"My species turns brown in the sun," he commented to the Prince as they strolled through the corridor.  "Not purple.  The underlying color is different, you see."  They both had light pink skin, quite similar in color, but the Pehla had bright pink blood underneath.  

"How extraordinary."  The Prince stroked Obi-Wan's face. Unconstrained touching was a privilege of rank; Obi-Wan couldn't touch him back.  "I have something to show you, dear apprentice Jedi." He took Obi-Wan's wrist and began running.

Obi-Wan held back a sigh as he ran in the Prince's wake.  He had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Obi-Wan sat facing the wall as Qui-Gon entered the room.  "Good evening, Padawan."

"Good evening, Master."

"Are you meditating?"

"No."

Qui-Gon approached.  "What happened?"  

He sighed and stood up, crossing his arms as he let Qui-Gon look at his face.

Qui-Gon's eyebrows climbed his forehead.  "How...extraordinary."

Parallel black bars marched across his cheeks, the mark of a cleric. Alternating large and small circles made a vertical line up the middle of his face, shading from purple at his chin to pink at his hairline. The color stood out oddly from his paler skin.  

And his teeth were dyed to look as if they were filed. Apparently this was a common technique among those whose filed adolescent teeth had been replaced with square adult teeth.  

"The prince assure me it's temporary," Obi-Wan said.  "He also assures me it's entirely appropriate according to their adornment customs."  

"This is rather a good look for you, Padawan."  Qui-Gon's eyes twinkled.

"It's undignified!"

Qui-Gon touched his shoulders.  "It's for the good of the negotiations between the Republic and Pehlah.  We've been invited to dine with the Queen and her family tonight, and I believe that will be the last day of negotiation."

"The good of the negotiations," Obi-Wan repeated, making it his mantra. "The good of the negotiations."  

"Exactly."  Qui-Gon cupped Obi-Wan's face in his hands and touched his chin to his forehead.  Obi-Wan was starting to get tired of that gesture.

"The good of the negotiations," Obi-Wan muttered, heading for his room to change into formal garb.

*****

Qui-Gon leaned over to Obi-Wan.  "Are you quite all right?"

Obi-Wan blinked.  "Yes...yes, I think so."

"Just let me know if you need rescuing."  Qui-Gon bit into a star-fruit.

"I think...I'm quite well, yes.  Quite well."  

The Prince and his cousin Apahan were very...taken with the combination of Obi-Wan's new appearance and his black formal garb.  They had pulled him across their laps and taken turns feeding him bites of fruit and sips of wine.  

Apparently this was normal in the court, a simple mark of favor. The Prince and his cousin had run off to another part of the palace for a moment, but were sure to return.  

"It's not so bad, is it?"  Qui-Gon smiled.

"What's so bad?"

"The facial markings.  There is great value in fitting into a culture sometimes, my Padawan."

"You have a point, Master."  Obi-Wan looked up to see Pahlan and Apahan returning.  He blushed, and they both grinned.  "Oh my."

 

 

end.


End file.
